


Until November

by Inky



Series: Inky's Yeehaw AU Tributes [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Yeehaw AU, real friends help you pick dollar bills out of your g-string, yeehumping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky/pseuds/Inky
Summary: “This ass isofficiallyspoken for.”





	Until November

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buffshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffshiro/gifts).



> this fic is brought to you by fried rice. shit is delicious (also brought to you by the lovely [yeehaw au](https://twitter.com/buffshiro))
> 
> It is the sequel to '[Until October](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672693)', which I highly suggest you read before reading this in order to understand some context in this fic, but this can still be read as a standalone. 
> 
> \--[elle](https://twitter.com/inkweaving)

Strobe lights flash over sweat-slick skin and the air is full of fluttering bills. Ones, tens, twenties. There’s a fifty hanging from his g-string.

Shiro grips the pole with one hand and swings around. He struggles to maintain the sensual, wanton expression; he struggles to keep his limbs loose. The smell of sex and metal and bad cologne is in the air and he suffocates on it, tonight. Usually, he thrives on it, but he feels like he can't get enough oxygen in his lungs.

The finale of his performance requires a feat of strength he almost cannot muster. Huffing and puffing, he climbs the stripper pole and keeps his eyes on the ceiling as sweat drips down his brow. Below, the crowd is screaming for him. More bills are thrown upon the stage.

His hand slips. He falls two inches but he stops himself, teeth grit so hard he’s sure his molars are going to shatter in his damn mouth. The only way he knows how to save face is to spin around, put a sultry look on his face, and keep climbing. He gets near the top, swings his legs forward, and clamps his thighs tight around the pole. Arching backwards, he moans and thinks of Keith, thinks of his body over his.

The look on his face is borderline sinful.

Dollar bills rain on him as he slides down the pole, skin chafing the entire descent. He lands on the stage and bathes in the money of horny patrons. His set is done.

As he moves to stand, half of his focus is on keeping the sexy look on his face as he walks around to gather bills in his g-string. The other half, the hungrier half, frantically tries to look at all of the bills on the stage and count. Is it enough?

As the stagehands sweep up the rest of his earnings, Shiro steps backstage. The curtains shut.

He falls into the wall, one hand up over his head, and sinks down. He braces his trembling knee on the metal seat of a folding chair and sucks in air like his life depends on it.

“Haa—guh, _ugggh_ —“

There's a searing pain in his shoulder and it drags him down until all he can do is sit bonelessly in the folding chair, clutching his prosthetic to his chest.

“You okay there?”

Shiro’s eyes snap open just in time for a towel to fly into his face. It’s cold and wet, and he nearly groans in relief as he buries his face in it and wipes at his sweat.

“I’m fine,” Shiro lies. He runs the towel down his sweating, glittery chest and lifts his eyes to meet the golden gaze of his friend and colleague, Kinkade. He stares back, looking skeptical. The corset, fishnet stockings, and floppy bunny ears he’s wearing would be hilarious if Shiro wasn’t currently trying to decide if his shoulder is just strained or if he somehow dislocated it. In a strained voice, "You look hot, Ryan."

“Your shoulder,” Kinkade says. He nods his head once and Shiro dares to look. He grimaces at the redness blooming there—it’s not from glitter. Kinkade reaches forward to touch it and Shiro winces. Kinkade whistles. “You better be careful. Your skin’s all hot. That could be your rotator cuff, and if you tear that, you’re not gonna be on that pole for a _long_ time.”

He leans back and takes a long swig from the tin water bottle in his hand.

“Ask if you can go home,” he urges as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “You’ve been in _every_ night this week. You’ve gotta be over sixty hours by now.”

“I can’t,” Shiro says, dismayed. Kinkade sighs and moves to sit beside Shiro, elbows braced on his knees as he leans forward. He thinks for a long moment, lips pursed.

“Yeah? Why not? Trying to buy Keith something nice?”

“Trying to keep our heads above water, more like. Keith is still out of work, his arm is... he’s got nerve damage from the accident and probably won't be back to work until November. The hospital bills are _ridiculous_ , and all of our winter preparation has been thrown out the window. We might not be able to make ends meet. Keith’s been talking about selling the truck...”

Kinkade mouths ‘oh’ and looks down at his water bottle, sloshing its contents back and forth as he goes quiet in thought. He shakes his head.

“Yeah, but you can’t just carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, man,” he laughs but it’s humorless. Shiro barely reacts as Kinkade reaches over to give him a friendly slap on the back. “Leave some hoin’ for the rest of us, huh? You’re making our customers go broke before the rest of us can even do our sets.”

That coaxes a half-smile out of Shiro, who nudges weakly at his friend with an elbow.

“Sorry.”

“You got private dances tonight?”

“Yeah, one,” Shiro yawns. He rubs at one tired eye, careful to avoid the glittering eye shadow caked heavily onto his top lid. “It’s a regular. He’s nice. Tips well.”

“Maybe he’ll slip you a hundred if you let him put it between your cheeks,” Kinkade muses. “You ever let him swipe your card reader?”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Shiro laughs, genuine. It feels good to laugh, like he’s shaking dust out of his ribcage. “No. I could, but I don’t think Keith would appreciate it, even if we’re tight on cash. I’m not going to break his trust like that.”

Kinkade clicks his tongue and shakes his head between sips of water.

“Man. I miss it when you were a crazy slut. Keith comes galloping into your life in a ten-gallon hat and riding a goat, and all of a sudden you won’t let people see how many bills they can fit between those cheeks? C’mon. You’re _still_ the record holder for Bills 'n the Buns.”

Shiro smirks and crosses his legs, flashing Kinkade his engagement ring for the millionth time.

“May I remind you, this ass is _officially_ spoken for.”

Kinkade grabs Shiro by the wrist and tries to yank it forward, miming like he’s going to eat his fingers. Shiro barks out an unexpected laugh and shoves Kinkade away so he can cradle his left hand close to his chest and protect it.

“I hope Keith appreciates the cheeks he’s been blessed with, and the cheeks he’s stolen away from the rest of the population.”

“He does,” Shiro says, smug. He smiles down at his ring and presses a sweet kiss to his ring finger. _Home soon, baby._

Behind them, the wall thrums and thumps as someone starts their set to the tune of a tacky Iggy Azalea song Shiro doesn’t like. Kinkade and Shiro glance at each other, disgusted, and promptly stand so they can go to the dressing room and drown out the nonsense. Kinkade has Shiro stand in front of him, arms out, so he can help pluck the bills still caught in Shiro’s g-string.

“You’ve got a fifty under your balls,” Kinkade deadpans, pointing. Shiro looks down and slides it out with a grimace. Kinkade looks at the limp bill with equal disdain. “How did _that_ get there? Why do people gotta _put_ those there?”

“They know I love the smell of ball sweat when I’m trying to buy groceries,” Shiro says, sarcastic. Still, he gathers the bill in his right hand and continues searching with his left. Then, a little disappointed, “I think I made less tonight than last night.”

“Because you’re thinking too much about the money. You’re stressing, Shiro,” Kinkade says. He puts his hand on Shiro’s good shoulder, the one not currently throbbing, and offers him a reassuring smile. “That’s why you should take tomorrow off. Call in, get some rest, and put some ice on that shoulder. The audience can tell when you’re strung up tight enough to snap Keith’s dick off in your ass. It's not a good look.”

Shiro throws his head back and laughs, clapping a hand on the small of Kinkade’s back and grabbing the bunny tail on the back of his thong. He pulls it back and snaps it against Kinkade’s skin, earning a yelp and a smack on the ass.

“Maybe. We’ll see, but no promises.”

“Text me when you get home safe?”

“Of course.”

-*-

Shiro pulls in the driveway at two in the morning, exhausted but several hundred dollars richer. As he shuts the engine off and opens the car door, he frowns at the lights still on in the house. Moths and mosquitoes swarm around the porch light, enough that it has Shiro waving his arm back and forth as he trudges up the steps. There’s a little bit of an October chill in the air. At least he’s wearing sweats.

“Baby?” Shiro whisper-yells as he peeks his head through the door. He closes the door behind him before the bugs can get in and tiptoes to the kitchen. There’s no one there, but there’s a casserole dish on top of the stove with leftover dinner, haphazardly covered in plastic wrap. And... containers. Lots of containers. Shiro steps inside and peeks into the Tupperware, finding cookies, brownies, blondies... there’s even a couple pies sitting on a wire rack, still warm.

Shiro’s lips pull into a deep, worried frown. He has a feeling these baked goods weren’t made for consumption as much as they were made for _stress relief_.

“Baby?” Shiro tries again, still quiet. He leaves the kitchen and pads to the end of the hall, where he finally finds Keith sitting alone in the living room. The coffee table has been pulled towards him; the television is on mute. Keith's leaned all the way forward, his head in his hand.

Lying scattered across the table are dozens upon dozens of tri-fold documents and ripped-open envelopes. Lots of numbers. Lots of bills...

“...Oh, Keith,” Shiro sighs. He wilts against the doorway and Keith finally looks up. His eyes are rimmed with red and bloodshot.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he croaks. His voice sounds disused and weary. Shiro’s heart breaks for the sunken look in his eyes and the dark bags that hang under them. Keith rubs at his wrinkled brow with one hand, over and over, turning the skin red under his fingertips. He holds a bill in his shaking hand. “This is just the ambulance bill an’ it’s almost _fifteen hundred dollars,_ Shiro _."_

Shiro sucks in a quiet breath but refuses to gasp outright and stress Keith out more. Without thinking, he steps forward and goes straight to the coffee table, kneeling down and finally sitting cross-legged.

“Let’s... just take a deep breath. What bills can we put on a payment plan? Let’s sort them by due dates, and we can go over our options,” Shiro says. It’s the most gentle voice he can muster. He takes the bill Keith’s holding and holds it up to read it. “Okay. It looks like this one, we can put on a plan—“

“The plans don’t matter! They don’t fuckin’ matter!” Keith snaps. Shiro flinches and looks up at him as Keith rakes his nails through his hair. Yellow bleeds into his sclera and his words slur as his too-big fangs swell in his mouth. “We’re still gonna be in the red every month! It’s gonna—they’re gonna, we’re not gonna be able’ta have heat, we’re gonna have’ta decide between us an’ the chicken coop, we’re not gonna—your jeep a-an' the brake pads, my student loans, we—“

Keith babbles himself into a frenzy, eyes wide and wild. Silently, tenderly, Shiro reaches out and settles his hand on Keith’s thigh. Keith goes quiet and blinks hard, his chest still rising and falling.

“Keith,” he says. An authoritative tone sinks easily into his voice and he squeezes Keith’s thigh. “We’re going to be okay.”

“We’re gonna be... okay,” Keith echoes. Shiro watches as his chest deflates and his shoulders unwind, slumping. He takes long, deep breaths.

“We don’t have to freak out. Remember? College dropout? Stripper? I know what it’s like to pick between heat and food money, you know,” Shiro laughs. Keith stares woefully at him, lips screwed up tight.

“I _never_ want you t’go through that again. I ain’t _never_ gonna let you have to make that choice again,” Keith snarls, voice breaking. He’s on the verge of tears, so Shiro rubs his leg up and down.

“I know you won’t. But you have to take a deep breath and help me. We’re going to get through this. It’s just a little wrench. If we budget things carefully, we’ll be able to make it through this.”

Keith’s face crumples and he stares down at the bills on the table.

“I’m... sorry,” he manages. “I know this isn’t how you imagined things would be. I want to give you the world an’ I can barely even manage to give you a roof over your head. I’m sorry. I really am.”

Shiro watches, silent, as Keith pinches at his brow again, clearly holding back tears. He just smiles, gentle, and slides his hand up Keith’s thigh and down again.

“Keith?”

“...What.”

“I love you,” Shiro says. Keith lifts his head from his hand, still rubbing his thumb compulsively over his index finger, the way he does when he’s trying to keep his emotions in line. Shiro continues, quieter, “I love you more than anything in the whole world. That includes money and fancy cars and nice things. I’m not in your life because you give me things. I’m here because I _love_ you, and I’ll never give up on you. Or us.”

Keith covers his eyes with his hands.

“ _Stop_ ,” he says, voice thick and wet with emotion. Shiro just smiles and leans forward, laying his cheek on Keith’s thigh. He watches the muted television. It's  _Signs_.

“Sitting alone, watching scary movies by yourself,” Shiro sighs. He trains his eyes partially away from the screen so he doesn’t inadvertently get spooked by a jumpscare.

“...The only thing scary about this movie is all the flattened corn. It’s a damn waste,” Keith grumbles. He still sounds throaty, but at least his eyes are dry. Shiro turns his head to look up at him from his thigh, smiling sweetly. Keith aims the remote at the TV, turns it off, and looks down at Shiro, his lips thin. He settles a hand on Shiro’s cheek and combs his fingers through silver locks. “Thank you. I’m sorry for gettin’... for freakin’ out.”

“You need to stop thinking I’m going to leave you if things aren’t perfect,” Shiro comes right out and says it, and he knows he hit the nail on the head because Keith stiffens and looks away. “Please, Keith. You don’t have to shoulder all this responsibility yourself.”

“Says you,” Keith counters. Before Shiro can react or move away, Keith reaches out and pulls Shiro’s rainbow tank-top strap to the side. He frowns down at the red spot. “You’re gonna get injured if you keep this up. Call off tomorrow night an’ rest. I’ll take care of you an’ I’ll do what I can to help you with the chores. I’ll call Mom ‘n Dad if I have to so they can do the heavy lifting. Please call off. Please. If you don't make money, fine. But nothin' will matter if you end up in the hospital, too.”

Shiro takes a small breath and releases it, before finally conceding with a nod. He takes Keith’s extended hand and brings it to his lips so he can kiss his knuckles.

“Okay. I will,” he whispers. Keith visibly relaxes.

“Thank you.”

Shiro shifts, using Keith’s knee as leverage as he moves to stand. Keith blinks up at him.

“We’re not going to get anywhere with these bills when we’re both so tired,” Shiro says. Keith looks back down at the papers, hesitant, but Shiro is quick to tug on his hand. “C’mon. C’mon, baby, let’s go to bed.”

Reluctant but still relieved, Keith stands. He groans as his joints pop and Shiro coos at him, smoothing a hand down his back to settle on his butt.

Sleepy and boneless, they stumble their way to the bedroom. At first, they don’t even bother turning the lights off in the other rooms, but Keith ends up shuffling to go and do it anyway, muttering something about the electric bill.

When he returns, the bedroom is dark and the bed is bathed in moonlight from the window. Shiro smiles from the bed and shifts the sheets, holding them up for Keith to join him. He watches as Keith trudges forward, stripping naked as he does, and collapses into bed with a groan. Shiro giggles and tucks the sheets around his bare shoulders, then sidles closer so he can curl up against him. Keith grumbles and rolls onto his back so Shiro can rest his head properly on his chest.

“I didn’t know this was a ‘sleeping in the nude’ sorta night,” Shiro hums. He slides a hand across Keith’s chest and lazily circles his finger around a dark nipple. Keith barely responds to it, but he does let out a low purr from deep in his chest. Shiro smiles, watching his eyes moving behind closed lids.

“You really thinkin’bout sex right now?” Keith murmurs, half asleep. Shiro stifles a laugh against Keith’s pec, landing a kiss right in the center of it.

“I’m always thinking about sex with you,” he croons. Keith’s breath hitches a little and he lets out a long, sleepy laugh.

“Only for me, darlin’,” he says. He turns his head, searching, and places a kiss on Shiro’s forehead. Shiro can feel the smile on his lips. “You’re sure welcome to try, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to stay awake.”

Given the green light, Shiro grins and pushes himself up so he can lean over Keith and peck him softly on the lips.

“Can I take care of you, baby? You want me to do the work?”

“Mrrr,” is all Keith can manage, already dozing. Shiro just giggles and moves the sheets so he can move down Keith’s body. He spread Keith’s limp legs and settles in between his thighs, making himself comfortable and taking in the sight of Keith’s mostly-flaccid dick. A smile tickles his lips; even when he’s tired, he can’t resist Shiro’s allure. Tipping his head down, Shiro licks a long stripe from the base of Keith’s cock to the tip, flicking his tongue just under the head and startling a dull jolt from Keith.

Shiro pours all of his love and attention into servicing Keith between his legs. Keith doesn’t make much noise, still exhausted, but his dick does steadily get harder as Shiro goes. He lavishes kisses all along the shaft and suckles on the tip; he cups one of balls in his mouth and teases out a low groan from Keith.

The next time he lifts his head, Keith is gazing blearily down at him and reaching for his head with his good hand. Shiro preens at the fingers combing through his hair.

“You’re so good,” Keith huffs, half choking on a moan and a yawn at the same time. Shiro takes the moment to suck Keith down to the root, which makes him throw his head back against the pillow with a hiss. Shiro swallows around him, lazy and practiced in his methods. He stops, however, when he feels Keith’s fingers knot in his hair and tug, trying to get him off.

“Mm?” Shiro hums, entirely aware of what he had been doing. Keith scowls at him from the headboard.

“Neither of us are gonna get sleep if you keep doin’ that with your mouth.”

“You were so close to cumming, baby,” Shiro whines. Keith huffs and pushes himself to sit up, putting all of his weight on his good arm. With a laugh, Shiro starts shimmying out of his sweats, leaving him only in the tanktop and a thin pair of red booty shorts.

(They say ‘Juicy’ on the butt.)

(Shiro thinks they’re kinda tacky, but they’re Keith’s favorite.)

(Small compromises.)

“C’mere,” Keith says, pulling Shiro close. Shiro straddles his lap, moving his hips in ways even his clients don’t get to see. Keith groans, low and hot against Shiro’s shoulder, as his hand ventures up one of the legs of Shiro’s shorts. Shiro gives a full-body shiver as Keith’s fingers tickle along the neatly manscaped hair around the base of his cock.

“Keith,” Shiro sighs. He kisses Keith’s hair and dots more down his brow, pausing only when Keith pushes his shorts down and takes double handfuls of his ass.

“God,” Keith snarls. He squeezes. “I love your ass.”

“It’s all yours,” Shiro murmurs. He reaches over, leaning slightly so he can grab the bottle of lube they keep sitting out on the bedside table. Popping it open, he reaches behind himself and squeezes a liberal amount onto Keith’s waiting fingers. Keith wastes no time, nipping at Shiro’s clavicle and sucking marks into his skin as his finger circles Shiro’s rim just once and pops inside.

Shiro rides his fingers the best way he knows how; he gives Keith a show, one hand braced on Keith’s shoulder and his other supporting his hips as they undulate to the pace Keith sets. Keith’s breaths come out in quick, harsh pants and Shiro lets out a breathless laugh as Keith’s dripping cock brushes against the bulge tenting his booty shorts.

“You’re beautiful, Shiro,” Keith whispers. He drives two fingers up against Shiro’s walls as he does, yanking a soft cry from the back of his throat. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, Takashi. The most beautiful thing I ever seen in all my life.”

The praise makes Shiro leak and whine, hips moving faster and faster on Keith’s fingers until he abruptly withdraws and leaves Shiro twitching and whimpering for more.

Keith grabs him and rolls them both over, careful to lean most of his weight on his good arm as he presses Shiro down onto his back and strips the shorts off of him. Naked, Shiro moans and opens his legs wide for Keith, letting him see the mess he’s already making on his belly and the blush that has spread all the way down his scarred chest.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Keith repeats, this time in a growl. Shiro bites his lip and braces himself as Keith lines up with his loosened hole and begins to slowly, carefully push inside. It’s good and easy, Shiro’s body taking Keith in like a perfect sleeve. His eyes roll in their sockets and he curls his toes in the air.

“I love you,” Shiro whispers, the words wrenched from him with Keith’s first thrust. He lifts his head, weak and emotional without warning. His prosthetic reaches out and hooks on Keith’s neck, pulling him down closer. Keith kisses his nose wetly, voice lost in a long, low groan. Shiro whimpers, “I-I love you. I love you so much.”

“Takashi,” Keith hisses. His hips snap forward and he grinds himself deep inside of Shiro, reaching as deep as he can possibly go. Shiro quivers, starstruck with tears in his eyes, as Keith threatens to rearrange his insides. With every thrust, their skin slaps together and the bed rocks. The bedframe creaks and the headboard taps against the heavily scuffed wall directly behind it.

“ _Ohhhhmygod_ ,” Shiro wheezes as Keith drives into him faster, harder.  A single tear slips down from his eye and Keith catches it with a kiss. Shiro clings to him, nails digging into his back and leaving angry red lines behind.

“I love you,” Keith says through gritted teeth. He sucks in a hiss and his hips begin to stutter, marking the beginning of the end. “God—fuck, Takashi, I’m—“

Shiro doesn’t answer him. He lowers his prosthetic to his cock, stroking it in time to Keith’s thrusts and encouraging him forward with an ankle against his ass. He pulls Keith in tight, and doesn’t plan on letting him pull out.

Keith seems to understand this, and that alone makes his hips jolt to a sudden stop, buried deep inside and spilling deep enough to send Shiro careening over the edge.

“ _I love you_ —“ Shiro cries again, stroking himself through his orgasm with those last words on his lips.

It takes ages for them to come down. Keith lets out a loud groan of satisfaction and flops down on top of Shiro. His dick gives a few more feeble twitches and starts to soften, but he doesn’t seem too keen on pulling out just yet.

“...Takashi,” Keith whispers. Shiro closes his eyes and cups Keith’s cheek in his hand. Keith’s voice is barely audible, “I love you. You’re perfect. I'll love you forever.”

“I have good news,” Shiro murmurs, dozing. He feels Keith lift his head from his chest.

“What’s that, sweet tea?”

“We’re getting married,” Shiro hums. His lips curl up, even in his sleepiness. “And you’re everything I could ever want. I'll love _you_ forever.”

“Even if I’m an idiot who can’t clean up his messes in the shed an' gets injured because of it?” Keith asks. Shiro laughs as Keith rolls off of him and pushes at Shiro’s hip until he’s on his side. Keith slides up behind him and jetpacks him. Shiro snuggles into his pillow and wriggles his hips until Keith’s dick is nestled safe and warm between his cheeks; Keith groans against the back of Shiro’s neck in appreciation.

“You’re the perfect man for me,” Shiro sighs. He takes Keith’s hand and holds it against his pec, letting Keith squeeze and idly play with his nipple. “I’m hopelessly devoted to you.”

“I hate that song _and_ that movie.”

“I know.”

“I don’t hate it so much when you say it, though.”

Shiro laughs, soft and tired, against his pillow.

“Shiro?”

“Mm? Yeah baby?”

“Thank you for working so hard. Let me treat you tomorrow. How ‘bout we go an’ see if Lotor will let us take some of those Muscovy ducklings home. Say... four?”

Shiro perks and wriggles with excitement, which draws an exhausted laugh (and a moan) out of Keith. Shiro turns over in his arms, facing him and smiling brightly at his barely cracked-open eyes.

“Really?” he asks. Keith nods and smiles as he brushes his fingers over Shiro’s cheek.

“Yeah, darlin’. You can pick ‘em out. An’ when we get home we can take another look at those bills an’ see what we can do. Together.”

“Yeah—yeah, okay. That sounds perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find [tofu's Yeehaw AU on Twitter here.](https://twitter.com/buffshiro)
> 
>  
> 
> [You can find me and all of my other fanworks on Twitter here.](https://twitter.com/inkweaving)


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